


Matutinal Encounter

by sorrowfulcheese



Series: Moment In Time [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-01
Updated: 2001-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese/pseuds/sorrowfulcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trunks is wandering the ruined city in the early morning and crosses paths with #17.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matutinal Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old story from 'way back in the day, inspired by a dream had by wargoddess; she kindly let me write the story. Recently she requested that I post it here, so - here. Enjoy :)

The City—what is left of it—is silent in the cool early morning. I take pains to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible, loath to break the stillness, half-afraid a noise will wake up monsters I cannot defeat.

There, I tell myself, is where the library used to be. There is the high school. There is the City Hall, surrounded by what once was a park. My mother has told me of these things; they were all destroyed before I was old enough to remember having seen them.

My feet carry me past them, to the city square, where a fountain still bubbles, heedless of the destruction around it, oddly untouched by the cyborgs' attacks. The cherubim cavorting around its perimeter, their fat little faces made rounder by delighted smiles, seem to mock the devastation about them, daring the cyborgs to come close and try to ruin their fun.

Lifting a hand, I touch one chubby bronze cheek, wonder morbidly if one day, when the cyborgs have killed me, this fountain will still be standing, its cherubim still laughing and pouring water into it from their jugs, still daring the assassins to mar their perfection.

A gentle laugh startles me, and I whirl, reaching instinctively for my blade, seeking the source of the sound. My hand freezes on the hilt of my sword, and I stare, desperately willing my feet to take me elsewhere; but they remain firmly planted where they are.

He sits atop what was once a sturdy wall, which earthquakes could not have budged, which he and his sister knocked down with very little effort. One knee is drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around it and his chin resting on it; his other leg dangles, casually. The thin morning sun shines on his glossy hair, glinting blue against deep black. Eyes the colour of a winter sky narrow, watching me, as a wicked grin continues to brighten his face.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he asks, indicating the fountain. "Never felt the urge to wreck it. Yet," he adds, smirking. With a fluid motion, he raises his arms, leaps to the ground, lands silently, catlike, on his toes. I tighten my grip on my sword, intending to draw it, to fight to the death.

Before I can lift the blade, he draws his gun and points it at me, still smiling. "Go ahead," he speaks softly. "I'll have a bullet through your heart before the steel sees the sunshine." I close my eyes and let the sword drop back into its sheath, and apologise silently to my father for having betrayed his memory, to Gohan for not being a better student, to my mother for having caused her such pain; she does not know I am out here, and will not discover quickly where I have died.

He chuckles. I open my eyes, trembling. "I won't kill you here," he promises. "This is one of my favourite places. I'm glad you found it." I clench my teeth. "You're a nice addition to the scenery."

He moves toward me, the gun still raised, and presses the barrel against my chest, directly over my heart. I swallow, feel a trickle of sweat tickle my cheek. "Let's make a deal," he purrs. "Let's say this area is neutral territory. We won't fight here. All right?" I blink, unable to force myself to respond. He lifts the gun, caresses my cheek with it, flicks away the droplet of sweat.

"Trunks," he murmurs, and draws the gun along my throat. He moves closer still, our bodies nearly touching, those icy eyes not a handspan from mine. "Have you ever wondered," he continues, his voice low, his tones gentle, "why you are not yet dead?" I swallow. The gun still at my throat, he walks around me, stops, and his lips brush my ear. "You are hardly a challenge yet, Trunks. You haven't mastered ki control. You haven't mastered the use of that sword. You aren't a Super Saiyajin—yet." He keeps the gun where it is, moves around to speak into my other ear, his arm around me, his body pressed against my back.

"Some things," he whispers, and I shiver. "Some things are just too beautiful to destroy." He slides around to face me again, drawing the gun to the back of my neck, its cold steel leaving a burning trail on my skin. He lifts his free hand, touches my cheek, pushes his fingers through my hair.

"You keep cutting it," he murmurs. "You should let it grow. It would suit you." His eyes look directly into mine; I notice for the first time that we are the same height.

The hand with the gun moves slowly down my back, letting the gun barrel trace my spine; I shiver again, uncontrollably. He smiles, and the hand stops at the small of my back.

He tilts his head, leans forward, and gently presses his lips to mine. Too startled to react, I stare; his blue eyes narrow again in laughter. With the hand in my hair he pulls my head toward him, insistent; his tongue darts between my teeth, tickling my tongue, teasing. The hand on my back pulls my hips against his, and I curse my body for reacting to him. Tentatively, I let my tongue twine with his, remarking as I do that it is ironic that my first kiss should be from a boy I have sworn to destroy.

He closes his eyes, finally, deepens the kiss with a soft pleasured sound; and then he pulls away, takes a step back, licks his lips, smirks at me. With a series of dazzling movements, he spins his gun on his fingers, then holsters it with a flourish.

"Next time I find you here alone," he says, "we fuck like rabbits." He leaps into the air, backward, watching me; I stare up at him until he becomes a black speck in the morning sky, and then vanishes.

My entire body trembles, and not solely due to fear and anger. I turn and look at the fountain again. The cherubim smile at me, pouring pure cold water from their jugs, taunting me, knowing exactly the thought that is racing through my mind, over and over.

_Some things are too beautiful to destroy._

I turn again and run all the way home, before my mother wakes and wonders where I have gone.


End file.
